


we can't go back, can't go back at all

by hollow_city



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death, Gen, One Shot, Unhappy Ending, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11973615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_city/pseuds/hollow_city
Summary: forests and cities burned and caved and populations plunged.and now. now it's just one. timothy jackson drake-wayne. just one.





	we can't go back, can't go back at all

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the beautifully depressing songs in the mourning, future, and franklin by paramore (the title is from franklin). please do pay attention to the tags, this ain't a happy one.

Damian's hand is heavy in his and the blood on his face feels cold. _Damian's blood._

The boy's gray face makes his stomach churn and his eyes burn but he can't look away. Can't look away from the jagged gash across his cheek and the deep gouge in his temple and the tear in his cheek. Can't look away from his little brother. 

He was supposed to protect him. He was supposed to keep him safe, and he thought he could. When they took Bruce, it was up to Dick to protect them all, but then they took him, too. Jason proved to be a better big brother than he'd ever been, but then they tore his throat out in front of Tim, and Tim swore to protect Damian with all he had. 

For months they stayed hidden together, practically attached at the hip for fear of losing one another if they separated. A sizable difference from the way they were before, but then again, everything was different before. Everything that happened before pales in comparison to this.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, as if that fixes anything. As if it will bring him back to life. 

A trail of blood leads from Damian's body to the closed door, where Tim had dragged him away from the fight. It wasn't a fair fight, and they hadn't stood a chance. Nearly two dozen towering aliens versus Damian with a broken arm and Tim with a severely sprained ankle. They'd managed to take down half of them, but then they all rushed Damian. 

And when they moved away, they left a motionless body in their path. Forty-three seconds later, all twenty-one aliens were lying dead on the ground. 

But it didn't save Damian. Tim thought maybe he could save him, and that he'd be able to get him out of there in time, but that was just wishful thinking.

Tim thought he'd gotten beyond that. 

"Damian," he chokes out. His voice cracks and his throat tightens and his grip on his hand strengthens. 

This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to protect him. He was supposed to be the one who fixed all of this, who figured out a way to get them past this. But the odds were ever against them because the human population has been rapidly decreasing for as time passed. What was once seven and a half billion dropped to six billion, to five billion, to three billion, to one billion. Islands at a time. Continents at a time. Until only a few thousand remained, scattered across the remaining land masses. Forests and cities burned and caved and populations plunged.

And now. Now it's just one. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. Just one. 

He can't even begin to fathom that. He is alone. Absolutely, one hundred percent, alone. He is the last of his species, and that's something he can't wrap his incredibly fast mind around. 

He'd worked so hard to keep going, to keep everybody he could reach alive, to find a loophole to jump through, a thread to pull.

But this time, there just isn't one. And he knows that now. He knows that, as he holds his little brother's bloodied body in his arms. As his head throbs with severe sleep deprivation and his throat burns like a desert and his ribs poke out to remind him that he hasn't eaten anything good in months.

So Tim does the last thing he can. He fights. 

He stands, letting Damian's hand fall back to the ground, and he gathers what weapons he has left. His suit has been decimated, leaving it without a cape, mask, or nearly any protection for most of his arms. He has his staff, a few Batarangs, and Jason's favorite knife. 

This is all he has left, but it doesn't matter. 

Because, as he steps out of the bunker and into the throng of invaders, he does what he can. He fights. 

He fights while swords and axes tear into his skin, striking down to the bone. While bullets embed themselves in his flesh. While he falls to his knees, only to climb back up to his feet. 

He dies, on his feet, fighting. 


End file.
